


Civilization

by cecefi



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: ? - Freeform, Fluff, Other, idk something small i wrote a long time ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecefi/pseuds/cecefi
Summary: Joshua does a little snooping





	Civilization

**Author's Note:**

> something small i wrote one day, not the best, but i feel ok with posting it. NB!courier. The songs are Anything Goes, and Civilization

Joshua was taking the long route around the camp again. Patrolling was not only necessary but a habit long instilled in him. Sometimes he let the others do it, but this evening he was on a mission. Sort of. Six’s tent wasn’t that far away from his cave and he could have easily finished up his rounds and made his way there.

But that would make the awkward conversation come sooner. And despite how easily he could sermon, how easily he could bark orders or inspire for once his confidence faltered. It had been easy to spread the word of the Father in these tribes. They were lost, they were practically begging for guidance when he stumbled upon them.

Six was different. They weren’t initially dismissive like other Gentiles, but his words never seemed to sink in. Perhaps it was the head wound, and it certainly had other obvious effects on them yet...It was of course his duty to spread the word but with them he felt a nervous air pick up in his chest. This was about their soul in the end and he tried to keep it at that.

Rounding the corner back into camp his stride slowed. He felt itchy. More than normal even while every inch of skin was covered in bandages. Sparks of anxiety traveled up his spine and he tried to shake them off. Why be nervous? After all they had done for each other...It felt like he was walking into some sort of battle the way his body was steeling itself.

With the flaps of their tent now only feet from him he halted, uncovered fingertips tapping on one of the few intact and legible copies of the Bible that was left. It was worn from not only the bombs but years of use, frail pages carefully folded, notes neatly written in cursive on the sides if needed. The other hand twitched a bit, always a bit unused to not having his gun in his grip.

Giving his gun hand something to do he brought it up to the tent flap and hovered for a moment. Preparing to clear his throat he paused, straining his ears to listen before he entered, just in case they weren’t there.

There was a low buzz, something he recognized. Static from an old radio they fixed up. There were set up way too out in these hills to get any clear signal from Vegas but the noise seemed to calm them. Something to placate the senses that ran wild in their damaged head. It was annoying at first but seeing how it steadied their hand, kept them focused, he allowed it.

Sweet temptation to peek without announcing himself curled around his thoughts. There was nothing in the Bible against it, unless they were changing of course, but he knew it wasn’t right. He had never actually been inside their tent before, as he valued privacy after his long time with Caesar’s Legion. Perhaps just a peek wouldn’t hurt however, just to confirm they were there, yes just a quick look.

Pulling the fabric aside the smell of grease hit him. Several warm lights of a few lanterns strewn about lit up the modest tent. An unmade sleeping bag on the ground with several bags of trinkets they had collected haphazardly plopped on the ground near it. They were hovered over a wooden table, dirty radio buzzing and shifting through various metal bits across its surface. Sweat visible on their white tank top and mumbling something he couldn’t hear they appeared to be working on some large box. It had what looked like an originally golden sort of horn on top. A record player? Still mumbling they picked up a screw and studied it briefly before tossing it aside, still not noticing Joshua. You couldn’t see the scar from this angle.

He wasn’t sure why he still didn’t interrupt. It was like watching one of those old grainy films on the holotapes from the old world. Not intruding but just experiencing everything as they tinkered. The radio buzz faded into the background as his old anxiety lessened. After what he assumed a few minutes passed by they let out a small shout, a small clink sounding out as they fit the last piece into place. They were almost jumping in place as they grabbed a large, flat, round, black, disk shape from the side of the table and placed with a gentleness he had never seen before on the record player. Curious, he tilted his head for a better view. He had never actually seen how a record player worked before.

Pushing a button the disk started to rotate as they got everything into place. 

He was sure they were both holding their breath.

After a few moments and a little stumbling by the record player the soft sounds of a piano filled the tent.

_ ‘Each morning a missionary advertise with neon sign _

_ He tells the native population that civilization is fine’ _

A chorus of female voices chimed in as Six jumped once in place, fists in the air in triumph. It was...endearing, and the corners of his mouth pulled up under his face bandages slightly.

_ ‘So bongo, bongo, bongo I don’t want to leave the congo _

_ Oh no no no no no’ _

They started to sway from side to side to the tempo while they picked up the rest of their mess, humming slightly. How long had it been since they listened to their favorite songs? How long had it been since he heard a real recorded song?

_ ‘Don’t want no bright lights, false teeth, doorbells, landlords _

_ I make it clear _

_ That no matter how they coax him _

_ I’ll stay right here’ _

Each beat had them moving more, starting some makeshift dance. It was hardly coordinated but it had its charm. Their left side was a bit delayed, just a big out of sync but that made sense with the gunshot wound being on that side of their head. Sudden guilt flowed into his senses. This was no longer a movie scene, but something more private. A vulnerable moment from someone who had learned the hard way not to be. 

What little he could feel in his face now burned with slight embarrassment and he let the cloth tent flap fall back down, muffling the little tune still playing. The gun hand returning to tapping the air he turned to walk away.

_ ‘Bingle, bangle, bungle I’m so happy in the jungle I refuse to go _ ’

The vision of them dancing without hesitation still lingered on his mind. Their movements weren’t… intended to be tempting, they were lighthearted, silly even. But that feeling in his chest told him otherwise. Grip on his Bible tightening he mentally cursed himself. This was punishment for his inappropriate peeking certainly.

Visions of them dancing facing him, movements more defined, more purposed, eyes on him-

_ ‘ _ _ Civilization, I’ll stay right here’ _

The song ended with a few horn blasts and he quickly towards the nearby entrance of his cave, his evening plans needed to be postponed. He needed to meditate, clean his guns, something. Anything. It had been a long time since he had been tempted like this but at least he remembered how to deal with it. Another song was starting.

_ ‘In olden days, a glimpse of stocking  _

_ Was looked on as something shocking.  _

_ But now, God knows,  _

_ Anything goes.’ _


End file.
